The Kill Society (Sandman Slim)(37)

I slip the Colt in the waistband at my back and point to an old ice machine at the far edge of the motel.

“I’ve been watching. We can circle around that way. I haven’t seen any movement from that side of the motel.”

“If you’re wrong and we end up in Tartarus, I’m going to eat your fucking guts.”

“If we end up in Tartarus, go find a guy named Mason. He’ll bring the wine.”

We crouch there for another minute before all hell breaks loose again. The APC rumbles forward, flattening everything in the way. The havoc pushes burning cars straight at the AAVs. The moment the first one explodes, me and Daja take off for the side of the motel.

Just like I thought, the Legionnaires were too busy on the run to create an actual fortress. There’s a lot of equipment and ammo out back, but only two guards. When the guards are both looking through a window into the motel, I throw a rock at a crate a few yards past them. The moment they turn away, we move.

We’re fast, but they hear us coming across the concrete patio.

Daja’s guard swings his gun around, but she throws herself on top of him with her knife in his throat. He goes down gurgling and she stays on top, stabbing and hacking until he stops moving.

I get lucky for once. My guard is so distracted by Daja that he doesn’t see me until the last minute. I twist the na’at’s grip and extend it into a spear. The point goes straight through his chest and out the other side. Another twist on the grip and it turns into a sword blade. I pull it straight up and it slices him in half. It’s the first time I’ve seen Daja look shocked.

“That’s a Hellion weapon,” she says.

“Is it? I got it in a box of Cracker Jack.”

“What is Cracker Jack?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

She tries the office’s back door.

“It’s locked,” she says.

“Let me see.”

I stand in front of it so she can’t see me and whisper some Hellion hoodoo. There’s no explosion, but the doorknob and its internal mechanism fly apart in my hand.

“How did you do that?”

“Magic.”

“Fuck you.”

Daja takes a knife off one of the dead guards, so now she has one in each hand. I leave the na’at as a sword for the moment.

There are more explosions out front. More gunfire. A horrendous crash of metal on metal. I gently push the door open and we go inside.

There’s no one in the back office. We creep up the hall, checking each of the side rooms. Those are empty, too. Up front by the checkin desk, four Legionnaires are hunkered down. The Magistrate lies on a fake leather sofa. He’s gagged and his arms are tied behind his back. The front of the office is peppered with bullet holes. The Legionnaires are all chattering to each other in nervous, guttural Hellion. I don’t know if Daja can understand it, but I can and it makes me smile.

The deserters are working out how best to desert the other deserters. Through the window, I see that one of the AAVs is on fire. They jump at each successive explosion from the havoc’s cars. These aren’t officers. They’re all outside in the fight. These are the ones too stupid or useless to do anything but babysit an unarmed man. Only one of them has the brains to actually hold her rifle. The other three have left theirs on the floor. From the way things look, I don’t think any of them has ever been in a firefight before.

I tap Daja on the shoulder and point to the Hellion holding the rifle. She’s closest to the Magistrate, so I know Daja will go all out for him. Two of the others are on their knees planning their getaway. The fourth one is also by the Magistrate, but couldn’t care less about him. He’s on the lookout for officers who might blow their escape plans. I point to myself and the two talkers. She points to the lookout. I point to both of us and shrug. Basically, whoever gets there first. She nods.

With her fingers, she counts down: three, two, one—

She springs at the soldier near the Magistrate, getting her in the ribs with both knives. The two talkers turn at the sound and scramble for their rifles. I slice the arm off the one who almost reaches his. Swing the blade around and take off his buddy’s head.

There’s a shot and all of a sudden my right side is on fire. My leg goes numb and collapses. Not for long, but long enough for the lookout, whose gun jammed, to clear it. However, before he can turn me inside out, the Magistrate kicks out, driving the shooter’s head into the wall. His rifle goes off, but the shots are wild and I can roll out of the way. By the time I have the na’at up, Daja is on the guy with her knives buried in his heart.

I limp over to the Magistrate and use Doris’s butcher knife to cut his hands free. Daja takes off his gag.

“Thank you both,” he says. He puts his hands on Daja’s bloody cheeks and she hugs him.

I can feel blood running down my side, but I’m not about to look at the wound. My leg gets funny again, but I make it to the window before it goes. I kneel down and look outside.

There are a lot of bloody patches on the ground where dead Hellions and souls blipped out to Tartarus. The gunfire from the roof and out front is more sporadic. A second AAV is on fire. There’s a whole wall of exploded havoc vehicles burning out front. Smoke slowly drifts down from the ceiling.

“I believe the building is on fire,” says the Magistrate. “Perhaps we should go out the back.”